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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26854501">Deleted scenes from the Soundtrack Trilogy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiuytrewq36/pseuds/oiuytrewq36'>oiuytrewq36</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queer as Folk (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:07:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,390</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26854501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiuytrewq36/pseuds/oiuytrewq36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Out-of-order deleted or newly written snippets from my <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881736">trio</a> of novellas, which I have now given a pretentious name to go along with the pretentious labeling of some fanfiction I write when I can’t bring myself to work on my real fiction as “novellas”. Spoiler alert, uh, I guess, and these may not make sense if you haven’t read the chapters I’ve linked to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>From <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26278018">Part 22</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Justin-”</p><p>“The fuck are you doing? I’m trying to find my keys.”</p><p>Brian continues in his quest to- pick me up? I think? </p><p>“I have keys,” he says, and scoops me up off the ground, knocking over one of the suitcases.</p><p>I glare at him, only partially joking. “That’ll be great for my back, a five-hour flight plus you doing whatever this is.”</p><p>He rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to be romantic.”</p><p>“By giving me sciatica.”</p><p>“Sunshine,” he says, voice annoyed but face betraying him, “would you shut up and let me carry you over the goddamn threshold?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26836723">Part 37</a>, but Justin POV</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We’re beautifully, ridiculously, wonderfully stoned, and Brian is fucking me raw on the living room carpet. It’s been three days, and I still can’t believe how hot it is to have his cock bare inside me, feel his come spurting in my ass, hear his desperate moans as he pounds me like he’s personally offended by my lack of orgasm. If this wasn’t so utterly, deliciously painful and real, I’d swear I’d died and gone to heaven. </p><p>As it is, I’m aching all over as he slams into me, one hand between my shoulder blades, pushing my face into the carpet. I think I’ve come about eight times today already, Jesus fucking Christ, and he’s hammering me like it’s our first round of the night. I’m not even sure I <em>can</em> come again right now, but I don’t care, because all I want is to fall asleep with his cock softening inside of me, going from iron-hard to velvet after he shoots in my ass, feeling his hot slick come trickling out of my swollen hole. I want him to use me for his pleasure, to make him fuck me until I black out from sheer exhaustion. It’s not new, this feeling, I’ve known it since I met him and then some, but the stripped-raw expression on his face every time he makes me come my fucking brains out is more than enough to bring it to the surface of my mind at full force.</p><p>Brian groans behind me, dropping his forehead to rest on my back, and the new angle makes me nearly shriek. He’s so big and hard, plowing me open, strong arms holding me tight to him, making gorgeous plaintive sounds as he chases his orgasm.</p><p>He comes with his nails scraping down my chest, gasping, and then collapses on top of me, flattening us both to the floor. I feel his heart rate slow as his panting breaths even out, and then he’s turning me over on the rug and kissing the new scratches on my pecs, moving up to nuzzle my throat. </p><p>I weave both my hands into his hair, massaging his scalp, and he sighs and rests his cheek against my shoulder.</p><p>A thought strikes me. I probably shouldn’t say it out loud.</p><p>“Christ,” I say to him, “what would you have done without me when everything shut down?”</p><p>Well, shit.</p><p>He just presses his face closer to my chest. “I don’t think either of us would like the answer.”</p><p>He’s right, and wasting our time on hypotheticals is stupid when we can be here, warm bodies intertwined on the carpet, the sound of the ocean fading in and out in the background. </p><p>I kiss the top of his head, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of emotion. “I love you,” I tell him, even though I know he already knows.</p><p>He doesn’t lift his head, or even say anything, but I can feel his smile against my skin.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>From <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25966990">Part 5</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I catch a ride to Debbie’s house with Daphne. When we get there, a teenage boy opens the door. He says hello to Daphne, and then stares at me like I’m an alien life form. </p><p>“Hi,” I say, which provokes no change in expression on his part.</p><p>Eyes still wide, he says, “<em>You’re</em> the roommate?”</p><p>“Hunter, let them in,” Justin says, coming up to the doorstep. “Hi, guys.”</p><p>“How come you always get all the hot ones?” Hunter says, glaring at him as he walks into the house. Justin looks back at him in confusion while Daphne doubles over laughing. </p><p>“Don’t ask,” she says, when I look at her. “I promise you don’t want to know.”</p><p>All the others are already in the house, including two women who are presumably Lindsay and Mel and two small children, one of whom looks exactly like Brian. </p><p>Daphne shepherds me around the room, introducing me to everyone I haven’t already met. The lesbians seem nice, if frazzled, but kids do that to a person, I’ve heard. The one obviously straight guy in the room, who I assume is Carl, is observing me with terror from the kitchen, which I enjoy in a way that’s probably not especially Christmasy. He and Emmett seem to be friends, though, so I think he’s probably okay. </p><p>Ted, as I suspected, is a neat guy, and when I mention my college flirtation with the baroque cello - glee clubs are for popular kids, so what’s a musically-inclined goth nerd to do? - we get into a deep discussion about the pros and cons of transposing baroque music for modern instruments.</p><p>Emmett is a party planner, it turns out, and practically proposes to me when I compliment the floral arrangements around the living room. I get to see that Justin was not, in fact, exaggerating when he described Debbie, and I meet Jennifer as well, who seems to be taking the chaos around her very much in stride. Hunter seems cool, once I get around the very odd idea that I’m apparently attractive to a very specific class of straight men, and gives me a few hilariously honest descriptions of his own family’s dynamics as Ben and Michael run around serving food and drinks.</p><p>Brian slinks around the room for most of the party, usually with a glass of whiskey and a plate with almost nothing on it, although he and Justin also sneak upstairs periodically throughout - doesn’t really take a super-detective to figure out what’s going on there. He’s startlingly good with the kids, though, especially Gus, and I notice Justin looking more than a little bit lovesick as he watches him bouncing Gus up and down, making him laugh.</p><p>“So this is your family, huh?” I say, walking up to him, and he smiles. </p><p>“This is them,” he says. “They drive me crazy sometimes, but I really wouldn’t want it any other way.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Set sometime after the end of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26786884">Part 34</a>. Justin POV.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Brian-”</p><p>He keeps wearing circles in the carpet, not looking at me.</p><p>“Most people would be happy about this, you know.”</p><p>He huffs. “I’m not most people. And I am happy.”</p><p>I let him make a few more orbits of the living room, then grab his hand as he passes by me and drag him over to the couch. He glares at me. “Stop making this into a big thing.”</p><p>I laugh. “I am not the one making this into a <em>thing</em>.”</p><p>Brian sighs, gazing blankly at the opposite wall. </p><p>“I thought I was past this,” he says, finally. “The freak-outs.”</p><p>I put an arm around him. “This is a big one. You think Gus isn’t freaking out too?”</p><p>“He’s not a <em>grandfather</em>,” Brian says, through gritted teeth. “Ugh. I hate that word.”</p><p>“But he’s going to be a father now, and I’m sure he’d like some advice from you on that.”</p><p>Brian rolls his eyes. “What advice can I give him? It’s not like I had much of a hand in raising him.”</p><p>“Exactly,” I say, pulling him in closer to me and stroking his hair. “Imagine the conversations he’s having with Lindsay right now.”</p><p>Brian sits bolt upright, looking horrified. I try not to laugh. </p><p>“She’s probably telling him the about the pros and cons of amniocentesis as we speak,” I say - unnecessary, probably, but I really want to make sure I get my point across. </p><p>He jumps off the couch, digging through his pockets. “Fuck. I bet she and Mel have already started making name lists. Where’s my goddamn phone?”</p><p>Fortunately, the excuse of looking around the couch for his cell allows me to hide my smile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>From <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25946557">Part 3</a>, but Brian POV</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He looks older, that’s the thing I can’t get out of my head as we make out in the elevator. He’s growing into himself so much faster than before, I can see it, and I’m not sure what to do with the swelling pride and contentedness I feel at knowing absolutely that him moving here was the right decision for both of us, the same way I’d felt the night of the rehearsal dinner.</p><p>Justin pulls back, panting, mouth rosy and fucked-out already from the combination of the aneurysm-inducing blowjob he gave me on the car ride over and my inability to stop kissing him for more than a few seconds at a time. In keeping with the latter, I grab his collar and yank him towards me again, licking his reddened lips, drinking in all the beautiful needy sounds he’s making. </p><p>“I hope you brought lots of lube,” he says, eyes suddenly mischievous, still rubbing filthily up against me. “I haven’t bottomed since we were last together, so” - I fail to hold back a very unmanly whimper - “I’m, uh, pretty tight.”</p><p>I slam him back against the elevator wall, cursing the long ride up to the seventieth floor, desperate to get him into a bed right this fucking second. He moans and hitches one leg up around my hips, and I consider throwing my very small amount of propriety out the window and doing him right here, security cameras and all, but I know that the second I’m inside him I’m not going to want to leave for hours, and he gets bitchy if we fuck more than twice in a row in an uncomfortable location. </p><p>The elevator doors open, fucking finally, and I drag him down the hall to our suite. We start tearing off each other’s clothes as the door slams shut behind us, and I think I’m going to lose my mind at the sight of his beautiful bare body, the way he’s staring at mine. Then we’re kissing again, even dirtier than before, and we sink to the plush carpet as one, him under me. It’s going to be fast and messy, we’re too crazed for anything else, so I just take both our cocks in one hand and grab a big handful of his beautiful hair with the other and suck on his tongue as he moans, frantic, body flushed pink, gasping out little high-pitched whines as he hits his peak.</p><p>I stay there on top of him after we come, feeling his wonderful warm vitality under me, until he starts purring filthy shit into my ear about how desperate he is for a good hard fuck, so I stumble to my feet and practically carry him into the bedroom.</p><p>He wasn’t exaggerating, he <em>is</em> really tight. Fuck. <em>Fuck</em>, I am not going to lose it at the hands (or ass, really) of a twenty-two-year-old twink, love of my life or not.</p><p>But it’s a close fucking thing, Christ, and he’s gasping and whining just like he did on our first night together, and now I’m thinking about the way he looked at the moment he got it, this, the reason we fight for every inch of tolerance, acceptance, because there is nothing in the world better than getting exactly the thing you’re hard-wired for, and if it’s a cock in your ass, so be it.</p><p>Justin’s beautiful needy noises are about to push me over, I know it, so I start really pounding him, letting him flail towards a similarly urgent climax. </p><p><em>God, I love this boy</em>, I think as I come, and I don’t let myself get weird about it. Not for long, anyway.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>From <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038861">Part 12</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bed is a mess, Justin is a mess, and I think I probably lost my mind about three orgasms ago, but neither of us has been able to stop yet.</p><p>“So you really ... didn’t ... know?” Justin pants, hair spiked and sticking to his forehead, mouth flushed and bruised. He groans when I press forward again, sliding his hands up over my back.</p><p>“I had no idea,” I tell him, after I manage to parse the question. Oh, God, he’s coming again, twitching and moaning and clamping down on me, kissing desperately over my neck. It hurts, not entirely in a good way, but I come too anyway, because, I mean, when has moderation ever been a component of my life philosophy?</p><p>“Good,” he rasps, when he’s done, and smiles, weakly. “Took me long enough to get it all set up.”</p><p>I pull out of him and he grits his teeth and whimpers. I wrap him up tighter in my arms and slide a few fingers into him, wait until he relaxes. I’m swimming in endorphins, and from the dreamy smile on his face I’d say he is too, stoned on dopamine, and I have a thought that I very nearly manage to stop myself from saying.</p><p>“I was worried you were mad. Or something.”</p><p>Justin opens his eyes. “Because I wasn’t answering the phone? I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be,” I say. “Just me being paranoid.”</p><p>He shakes his head and presses closer to me. “Next time I’ll make sure I let you know nothing’s wrong.”</p><p>I have to smile. “Next time you organize a surprise home-buying proposal to spring on me?”</p><p>Justin grins, eyes dropping closed again. “Yeah.”</p><p>He’s silent for a while. Then he says, “We’re going to live together.”</p><p>I nod against his cheek.</p><p>“In New York.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Jesus,” Justin says, still smiling.</p><p>“Yeah,” I say again.</p><p>“I can’t wait,” he murmurs. “Really. I’ve missed you being around all the time, Brian, so much.”</p><p>“Me too,” I tell him, and for the first time I let myself think about what it’ll be like, waking up with Justin right there, not one or or two weekends a month but every fucking day, coming home from work and having dinner with him, talking with him, no more phone tag. Being able to waste time lying in bed and just making out, breathing each other in, having all the slow lazy sex we could ever want, no return flights to worry about.</p><p>I hold him even tighter and kiss him, nice and deep.</p>
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